“Warning the man who wrote this report was pissed that no one, not even his twin brother, remembered his birthday, also pidgeons unloaded their bowels on his cake so he was very angry, do not take him seriously.”
Some time ago, Metalpoint turned nine years old and invited some shitty bands to come play for their amusement.
The first band was “Analepsy” which many people like to refer as Anal Pepsi. It was anal alright, bland generic overtly technical, not fast enough and plain boring. Add that to the fact that thei’re everywhere and I’m absolutely sick of seeing them live. People only want to see “Analepsy” because they don’t know where the Anal Coke went.
You thought that was bad? We bailed afterwards to drink and it turns out, there was another band playing, “Hunted Scriptum”. Hunted what? Are these guys on the lookout for dangerous pieces of paper? Is that their thing? Or are they themselves a script many Hollywood big shots are after and are therefore hunted by them? Whatever, bad show, bad music, no more time wasting on this.
Terrible as it was, it still wasn’t the last band. The last act was by “Destroyers of All” who destroyed absolutely nothing anywhere, in fact, they helped build matrimonial bridges since some guy proposed to his girlfriend in the middle of the show and she said yes, nothing more metal and destructive than marriage proposals, that’s why they do that shit all the time in movies in the middle of big action scenes. They actually did it on the third turd of a Pirates of the Caribbean movie, but I was trying to be sarcastic, weddings proposals are not metal, neither are they kvlt, they are a little necro but not kvlt.
After the shitfest of bands, there was cake and champagne, finally, a light at the end of the butthole in which we had stuck our heads. The cake was delicious and the champagne had alcohol so I’m not complaining, that’s right, I’m not pointing any mistakes towards the cake because that cake was amazing.
That’s all folks, Metalpoint is 9 now, I hope they get better bands for their next birthday, big boy bands, man bands, not this toddler falling all over himself bullshit.
Text by Hugh Dick